Red Lion
by Dannas
Summary: SLASH - Harry goes back to the same Pub everyday to see a mysterious, young blond man.


****Title: Red Lion  
>Author<strong>: Dannas  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Harry/Draco  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17  
><strong>Genre<strong>: romance, humour  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Harry goes back to the same Pub everyday to see a mysterious, young blond man.  
><strong>

**Red Lion**

**Part 1**

Harry didn't know why he came back to the Red Lion every morning. The service was horrible and their _strong_ coffee tasted like water. The tables were scuffed and old that Harry even had his breakfast dumped all over his lap once when one of them collapsed from his mere touch. It wasn't just the equipment, the pub itself smelled old. Dust overran the small place, sitting in every corner like a good old friend. The grime on the windows covered the view of the street and only showed dim figures of the people who rushed to their respective workplaces.

Yet there he was, at eight o'clock in the morning, sitting at the same table in the corner and drinking the same awful coffee. This time he didn't order food. The last Friday he did, he could neither get out of bed nor feel his stomach for an entire week.

As far as he knew, the pub had rooms for rent upstairs. The middle aged, gray bearded man behind the bar offered him one almost every day. He had no desire to take it, which would have been a living nightmare that was why he always made an effort to reject him in the kindest way.

He looked at the clock, which was missing almost all of its numbers.

_8:03._

Excitement hit him. He leaned back in his chair then leaned forward, crossed his legs than uncrossed them, trying to find the perfect pose where he could look, well, _perfect_. Or less lame, at least.

_8:04. _He gave up. He should have bought that shirt he saw yesterday in the little shop around the corner instead of wearing this old, baggy one. He should have tried to comb his hair at least one more time to make it look a _tiny_ bit better. Or less catastrophic.

_8:05. _The door opened and just like every other morning, a man entered – the most beautiful man Harry had ever seen. Today he was dressed in black, his clothes hugging his slim figure flawlessly the way it wouldn't any other person. His blond, almost white hair in contrast with his dark coat matched nearly perfectly, as if he wasn't fucking perfect already.

He sat down close to the music machine, just three tables away from Harry. And just like him, the man always came here, sat on the same place and ordered the same coffee he never finished. Harry didn't think he actually drinks the coffee in the first place.

Harry still remembered the first time he saw him. He had just made decision to never come back the pub again after a chair broke under him too, when this beautiful stranger walked in, snatching not just his, but everybody's attention.

In that decayed pub, he looked like a diamond among ordinary stones. The one you roll the red carpet for. The one you would notice and admire even if he was covered in mud. The grimace on his striking face showed how much he was disgusted to be there, and for a moment, Harry was sure he will turn around and leave. He didn't. While he hunted another chair for himself, he saw the other choose a table, checking the amount of dust on it with his finger. Not quite willingly, he sat down.

Harry stared at him, forgetting any notion of good manners. Their eyes met for a short moment and his decision to never come back disappeared into thin air. The stranger ordered coffee and Harry smiled knowingly, predicting the man's reaction. He had to swallow his laugh when the man sipped the black liquid and looked ready to spit it out immediately afterwards. With a hard face, he swallowed it then pushed aside the cup for good.

Harry was sure the stranger won't come back again. He didn't understand why he stayed at the first place. But the next morning, he appeared, right at 8:05 am.

It sounded stupid and he felt stupid drinking awful coffees and risking his bones to tables and chairs that broke under him, all just to see the blond man every day. It was a sick addiction. Maybe he was just too bored or maybe he should really just get a life.

The blond had a habit of smirking at him every time Harry did something stupid, which was always – dropping his spoon, spilling coffee into his lap, bumping into random things, mismatching the buttons on his shirt.

Their eyes met sometimes, but not for very long. Harry looked away too quickly, like a scared child who had no idea how to flirt or send signals of his attraction, as if he wasn't being obvious enough. He couldn't decide whether the other man was interested in him too, or was just amused with his awkwardness. It was rather obvious the blond was gay, just like him. Harry has a keen sense in knowing people's preferences. Then again, that didn't mean the blond was willing to date him. Maybe he already had a boyfriend, which wouldn't be surprising, really.

That morning, Harry woke up with the same aim: talk to him. He even had a plan in his head on how to have a word with the other but it was all pointless. He wasn't brave enough to approach the blond who had his face buried in the newspaper most of the time. The best case scenario would be if the blond's chair would collapse under him too so that Harry would have the excuse to help him up but it seems even the chair found the man too aristocratic to cause him any damage.

Stupid chair.

Harry still didn't understand why the man sat there every morning when it was clear he didn't want to be there. What was the point of ordering coffee he never touches? Why not just find a cleaner and better place instead? Not that Harry was complaining. He was past denying that he decided to come back there because of the blond. When he failed convincing himself that it was the excellent coffee, service and ambience during the first month, he finally admitted he had a crush on the other.

There were times when he felt like the man was staring at him, felt his presence stronger than anything or anyone else in the pub, but whenever he looked back, the blond's eyes were on the newspaper.

It was almost half passed eight, Harry had about a minute to accomplish his plans to approach the other and seduce him. The blond always stayed for just twenty five minutes. Harry was sure he couldn't stand spending more time in the dirty pub.

The other stood up, bringing Harry back to the reality, and left.

Seduce him, really? He was barely brave enough to look at him

Another day wasted. He should just go home and kill himself.

xxx

Hermione was reading aloud from one of her favourite wizard book and Harry was busy staring out of the window, watching the people passing by the house.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes."

Honestly, he wasn't. His mind was too tired to absorb any more information about magic. He hadn't done anything for months now and he needed a little rest.

"I can come back later if you want to be alone for a while."

"No. Stay," he sighed. "But, could we stop a little bit? I can't concentrate anymore."

"Alright. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I would rather hear a funny story."

Hermione began to talk, mostly about Oxford and Griffindor and Slytherins, but Harry was lost halfway through her story. His inner voice was getting louder, deafening his friend's sentences. He knew he shouldn't let himself get lost in thoughts. Sometimes he felt like asking aloud the many questions that went through his mind but he was afraid the answers wouldn't lead him anywhere, that he would stay stuck in this deep darkness where he tried to touch so many things and yet nothing forms.

"Ron will drop by tomorrow," Hermione said and Harry wasn't sure she had finished the story or just simply cut it when she noticed his lack of attention.

xxx

Today, the man didn't bring a newspaper, and Harry was secretly happy he couldn't hide behind the black and white pages. The first two buttons on his shirt was undone, letting him see a sight of the man's pale chest and Harry's dream last night came alive and flashed through his head.

He remembered pushing down the blond on the bed and fucking him into the mattress, with the man's gray eyes boring into him, flaming with desire. Dirty words and moans filled the air with skin on skin and mouth on mouth. When he woke up, it took a few seconds for him to distinguish between the dream and reality.

It wasn't the first time he had a dream about the blond. After seeing him in the Red Lion morning after morning since that fateful first day, now, the other man has taken into visiting him at night too, in his dreams. It was always the same. No foreplay. Just hard sex.

All through the night, he kept rolling side to side, unable to sleep. Those fucking questions, his unreachable past was haunting him, yet, failed to reach him. Hermione and Ron told him everything was going to be alright and that he should be patient. For the first time, he wasn't. He remembered kicking and tossing things when things got strange and scary around him. Now, after half a year, he was calmer, more patient and he manages to clear his mind of his dark thoughts.

He sensed again the stranger's eyes on himself and when he turned this time, he froze for a few seconds, unblinking, while the other was staring straight at him, fully attentive. It took Harry's breath away, those intense eyes, full of something he couldn't put his finger on. His heartbeat raced and he felt suddenly hot with an urge to hide or look away, which seemed impossible that very moment when the other's eyes so clearly bounded him.

Harry wasn't sure why the blond's was behaving that way. Maybe because he actually bought that new shirt and combed his hair one more time today to look less disheveled. He should have done more than just returning the man's look or fixing his look for the day but he didn't. He was still a helpless bastard who couldn't make the first step.

The man sighed and stood up. For a moment, Harry was sure, or at least he hoped, the stranger would approach him and make the long-awaited first move. The blond turned to the door and disappeared so suddenly Harry wasn't even sure he had ever been there, fucking him with those beautiful eyes.

He fucked it up again.

Today, he _will_ kill himself. Promise.

xxx

Ron talked about Quidditch a lot, about his favorite team that lost again, how amazing Harry was during their games in Oxford. But, other than that, he talked about Ginny and how nice a couple they were together while insisting that they should meet more often or that Ginny would like to come and see him some time. Harry didn't know if he liked the idea. He saw her twice since the war and they were awkward meetings. He didn't really know what to say to her no matter how open and friendly she was with him. Harry was sure the others had no idea he was gay. He dreaded to talk about it, especially to Ron whose dream was for Harry to marry his sister.

"My mother wants you to come over for dinner next week."

"Sounds good."

"You know she keeps telling you should move there with us. She believes it would help you to recover faster, and to be honest, I think you should too."

"I like to be alone. I'd like to sort this out on my own."

"Harry, you never liked to be alone. And it's not something you could sort out by yourself. You need some help."

"I haven't done anything for this past half year but accept everyone's help. And look at me. I'm still at the same stage."

"The Healers say there are other–"

"I don't care what the Healers say," Harry cut him off. "I believe one day the solution will come to me. I don't want to chase it anymore, Ron. I just want to enjoy my life."

"Are you telling me you're happy living like this?"

"I'm telling you I accept it and I can't do more than that at the moment."

xxx

_8:25_. The blond stood up, leaving the old pub and turning right like everyday. Harry waited a minute more then headed toward the door as well. He still caught the other as he turned at the next corner. Harry followed him. _Why not_? Being a stalker was easier than speaking to the other.

The blond dropped by a little café to buy coffee. Again, it just didn't make any sense. That made Harry more and more curious as to what could possibly be the other's aim in sitting at the pub for almost half an hour, everyday. Harry saw the man finished his cup in a few minutes from his hiding place behind a tree. He felt like an idiot, but lately, doing stupid things was quite normal in his life.

He kept following the other, walking through streets he had never been to before although he had lived in that little village for half a year now. The man didn't notice him and Harry didn't really know what he was doing or why he was doing it. He was just interested, and also didn't like to go home where he just read or stare out of windows, waiting for a miracle that never comes. The man helps him chase away that emptiness inside he woke up with everyday.

The blond went into a clothes shop. He stayed there for almost an hour so Harry got bored like hell. When he finally emerged, he wore a brand new suit. If the other wanted to impress someone, Harry was the right client, because he was so fucking impressed he could fuck the other right there and then on the street.

A little jealously flared in him. Maybe the other had a date with someone today. Maybe his next stop will be a posh restaurant where a lucky guy was waiting for him. The other didn't stop anywhere though, but after walking a few corners, he turned to a narrow alley. When Harry followed him there shortly, he realized it was a dead end but the man was nowhere in sight like he just disappeared into thin air. He looked around few times, trying to solve the mystery, even looked up, not quite sure why he expected to see the other hanging in the air.

Nothing. The blond was there one minute and gone the next, and damn, that made Harry want him more.

"Are you looking for me?"

Harry turned around so fast he almost lost his balance.

There he was, the blond man in his fucking perfect suit, staring at him with a knowing look, clearly aware that Harry had been following him.

"I-I just-" He just what? "I think I'm lost."

"Are you?" the other smirked. "I'm sure it's quite hard to turn around and go back to the main street."

It is, when you have a crush on someone who had just disappeared here and you wanted to find him.

The other looked like he was having too much fun at his expense. Again, the stranger was the one to break the silence. "What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want?"

The man rolled his eyes. "I don't think you want my tailor's number."

"He's quite good though," Harry said looking at the blond's body shape, maybe too boldly.

The blond sighed. "Come with me"

Sure. Gladly. Wherever the other wanted to be, Harry wanted to be there too.

Wait. He didn't want to go to the tailor.

They walked for about ten minutes in silence. Harry didn't know what to say, but the blond didn't seem to be in talkative mood anyway. He stopped at a house, opened the door and let Harry in. He clearly didn't expected this – an invite to the other's very private place. A voice in the back of his mind told him to be more careful. He didn't know the other at all, but that didn't stop him from going anyway. The door closed behind them, separating them from the outside world.

"Would you like to have a drink?"

Harry nodded and the other stepped to the bar, choosing a bottle of red wine. He thought it was quite early for alcohol, however admitted he needed something to help him relax.

Harry looked around the living room, the furniture seemed antic and smelled expensive, clearly chosen with care. The blond placed two crystal glasses on the table. It was strange to see him out of the old pub and amidst his private space.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, realizing he really didn't know anything about the other man.

The blond stopped pouring the wine for a moment but he didn't look at Harry. "Draco Malfoy."

Draco. The name fit to the man, he thought. Draco stared at the bourbon liquid in the glass a long time after he finished filling it. He gave his attention to Harry eventually.

"What's _your_ name?" Draco asked, with a rather bored tone.

"Harry Potter."

"Well then Potter, cheers."

"Harry."

"_Potter._"

It seemed unnecessary to fight over names with _Malfoy_.

Harry walked around the room and had a suddenly urge to see every little details and objects. He felt Draco's eyes on his back, watching his every move.

"Have you been living here all of your life?" he turned back to him.

Malfoy's expression appeared to be annoyed by the question. "I moved here two months ago."

"Do you like it here?"

"I find it boring, but-" the other never finished his sentence and Harry knew he wouldn't even if he asked him to.

"I like it. I quite need boredom right now."

The other remained quiet and those eyes that never left him made Harry confused. Something was sparking in the air between them, a strange tension that he had felt since the first time he saw him.

Harry stopped at the fireplace and almost jumped when he noticed Draco came near him, _very_ near him. "So what's next, Potter?"

Harry didn't know how to answer. He knew the other had a huge effect on him but never realized just how much. Words got stuck in his throat. All he could think of was touching the blond with a sudden desire that controlled his body and made him fight between his mind and want.

The other moved, taking the glass out of Harry's hand and putting it on the edge of the fireplace together with his. "You look scared," Draco said.

Oh yes, he was fucking scared. If he couldn't hold himself back, he was surely going to rape the other.

Malfoy leaned towards to him, looking at him cautiously for any sign of protest. When Harry didn't show any, he moved forward and let their mouths meet.

The kiss was soft, so soft that Harry wasn't sure it was really happening. His hand slipped into the other's hair without thought, pulling him closer desperately. It hit him then how very real it was, not to mention absurd. Kissing someone he didn't know. Someone he had not even spoken to with more than a few sentences. It just wasn't wise. No, fuck that. It _was_ wise when other was an amazing kisser. And he _really_ was.

Malfoy pressed his bodies closer and Harry closed the remaining distance between them. The feel of the other's clothes felt just as expensive as it looked when Harry skimmed his fingers along Draco's body. The kiss didn't stay soft for long. Soon, it grew wild and hectic, chasing away all thoughts from Harry's head until only the intense feeling remained.

It ended way too soon or maybe not soon enough. Harry lost track in time, lost himself in those beautiful gray eyes that were staring at him, spying at him as if searching for something. Harry didn't know what the other wanted from him with that look but he was willing to give him everything if he kissed him again. However, the spark suddenly died from Malfoy's eyes and he stepped away from Harry.

Draco took hold of his glass again. "Excellent age-grade, isn't it?"

Who the fuck cared about wine and its age-grade? "I think it is," he answered, eventually grabbing his wine as well and drinking it in one go.

Silence surrounded them. Harry hoped they won't stop at just one kiss but Malfoy kept his distance. Had he done something wrong or had the other changed his mind and didn't want him anymore?

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Malfoy asked.

"No," Harry lied.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I'm having dinner at my friend's place."

"Friend?"

"Yes, Ron. He's a nice guy."

Malfoy made a face but didn't comment.

"It's a nice flat you have."

Great Harry. Let's talk about flats. And after that, don't forget to mention weather.

"Not bad. Nothing compare to the previous house I lived in though."

"It sounds like you miss it."

"I do. But I have an… unfinished task in this shit village and well, that's pretty much it."

It was obvious Malfoy didn't want to talk about it. Harry was sure he won't hear any detail about that unfinished task, even though he was dying to know.

"I have a visitor in twenty minutes," Draco looked at the clock. "If you don't mind."

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Harry put back his glass on the table awkwardly. Turning towards the door, he grabbed his jacket. "Do you-" Harry licked his lips. "Do you want to meet again?"

"I'll consider it."

Draco Malfoy was strange. He took Harry in his place, kissed the hell out of him and now all he got was a 'maybe' as to whether he was willing to see him again. The aristocratic ass!

Harry left without another word. Maybe he was still willing to speak with Malfoy if he showed up again.

He will consider it, though.


End file.
